


A Temporary Shelter

by astolat



Series: Force Majeure [2]
Category: American Revolution RPF
Genre: Canadian Shack, M/M, cash slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-11
Updated: 2012-01-11
Packaged: 2017-10-29 09:15:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/318267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astolat/pseuds/astolat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Washington and Hamilton are driven by necessity to seek shelter together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Temporary Shelter

**Author's Note:**

> This one probably won't make much sense unless you've read [Force Majeure](http://archiveofourown.org/works/299861). :D

The snow had fallen to a depth of near two feet before they gained the dubious shelter of the trappers' hut: a mean structure of raw logs imperfectly chinked, relying on charms long since expir'd to protect the inhabitants from the elements. The snow had driven thru every crack and crevice, and was heaped upon the sills and floor.

Washington laid down his burden, Hamilton's limp body, on the low pallet of branches and hay, and turn'd to the task of repair. Hands braced upon the wall he put forth his will, the ephemeral gleam of the charm limning for a moment each rough log, the scraps of clinging bark, and the wind died as the spell climbed swiftly over the walls and up into the eaves.

He did not fear watching eyes any longer, or pursuit: the storm, which was to say Hamilton, had seen to that, in despite of all that Arnold's treason could do. Washington sat heavily on the cot beside Hamilton, free at last to truly feel all the bitterness of knowing himself and his cause betrayed, nearly to their joint ends, by an officer he had at once trusted and esteem'd. A dozen other good men slain, in that same ambush, because he had listened to Arnold's promises of a Canadian rising, instead of his own more sensible doubts; and Hamilton almost taken as well.

He pressed his hands to his face for a moment, or a little longer; when he had mastered himself again, the hut was warmer. He took off his greatcoat and lay it over Hamilton, then lay down beside him and closed his eyes.

And opened them, a few hours later, to find himself stretched on a divan of velvet, long enough to accommodate even his height and uncommonly wide. A fire crackled soft in a great stone hearth, and threw light gleaming gold off the spines of books everywhere, shelves rising into a vaulted ceiling above. Hamilton yet lay sleeping beside him, curled wan upon his side.

Washington rose and went to the door, and opening it looked out on the same bleak wilderness of pines from whence they had come; the path he had broken thro' the snow was not yet wholly erased. The same rough-hewn log walls stood without; he shut the door again, and turned back into the impossible chamber.

The books were solid in his hands, though many in tongues he did not recognize, and the fire real enough. When he set the book back upon the shelf and turned back, there was a table set with wine and bread and fruit, waiting, and the food had substance; no banquet of illusions. Hamilton yet slept: this was no temporary working. Washington had heard of such abodes, desires made manifest: the province of the great among wizards. The very great.

He poured the wine: he could not after describe it in words, but if a vintage pleased him, it seem'd to him to echo the savor. "Alexander," he said low, and sitting down upon the divan.

Rousing, Hamilton struggled up and looked: at the room, and then at him, with a mingling of pride and anxiety.

"Has this place—come to you often?" Washington asked.

"Twice before," Hamilton said after a moment. "When I—had need."

They spoke of it no further. Washington gave him a glass. "In the morning, we must take thought for our return to Morristown," he said.

Hamilton nodded. They drank, and ate sparingly of the fruit and bread. The fire was slowly falling to embers, and a chill creeping into the air. The divan in its alcove was somehow become a bed, canopied in heavy soft drapery, a silent invitation. They looked at one another. Washington set down his glass.

**Author's Note:**

> With many thanks to Ces for beta. ♥ All fb loved!


End file.
